


Monster

by pzreich



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Tears, sorrysorrysorry, very little romance actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6063262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pzreich/pseuds/pzreich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has turned bad right when the Winchester's needed him most, and now Dean must to deal with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster

“I’m sorry Cas, but I gotta do this.” Dean’s voice nearly broke on the last syllable. He kept the angel blade poised halfway between at his side and hanging loose, as if he couldn’t decide whether he should have it out at all. There was a slight tremor in his hands, a flush in his face and watery eyes as the sheer idea of what he was about to do shook him to the bones.   
All around them, the old building creaked on its hinges and sighed again, a loud croaking noise accompanied by one of the light bulbs shattering into a million tiny flecks of glass.  
Just like when we first met  
Dean forced the thought out of his mind. Castiel had clutched the overhanging pipes with a bloodied hand. A choked whimper escaped his lips but his throat was so cracked and dry it came out as a whisper. His eyes pleaded for what his mouth could not, in an expression of pure pain and fear. The lines around his mouth pushed and retracted in intervals as he tried to say something, anything, that would make Dean put down the knife.  
Dean only proceeded to raise the tip of the blade. Castiel tried again, managing to croak “Dean, no” before his body forced him to bend over in a coughing fit that only made his condition worse. Dean glanced away, eyes closed as if in pain and held up his free hand, “Don’t. Just, don’t. You’re not Cas anymore.”  
The Castiel he once knew was gone, replaced by a monster, an abomination, a shadow of the righteous angel he once was. The front seemed no different, a harsher Castiel, a more bloodthirsty one. That was acceptable to Dean. He knew what war did to people. It made them into hardened husks, changed them. But he would never forget the grin that spread like smoothed butter on Cas’ face when he saw the massacre he had created. The pathetic bloody mess in front of him was just another one of the monster’s tricks and Dean was so very tired of tricks.  
“Dean.”   
A wave of anger overcame Dean and he rushed at Castiel, shoving his broken flesh into a pillar and placing the angel blade so close to Castiel’s skin it was pushing it in. He was so close he could see the droplets of sweat on his forehead, taste the coppery blood and feel the tears leaking out of Castiel’s eyes like they were knives across his flesh. Dean’s entire body trembled with a mixture of rage and foreboding while the angel let out a low moan of pain.   
“Don’t say my name like Cas did. Don’t you dare, you son of a bitch!” Dean surprised himself when tears leaked from his unwilling eyes. He saw Castiel mouth a silent plea and squint his eyes shut. He was too weak to fight back, especially after Sam had dealt with him. And then Castiel did something that made Dean plunge the blade in his stomach.   
He smiled, a curled, cruel grin, and laughed. With a glint of estatic mirth in his eyes, he wheezed, “I should have left you in hell.”  
It was painful to look, so Dean closed his eyes as the point and a breath later the hilt of the weapon found it’s mark deeply embedded in Cas’ gut. Cas stopped smiling and choked, moving his hand from the pipe to snatch at the blade. When Dean opened his eyes again, Cas was staring at him, and there was something in his blue eyes that Dean hadn’t seen in awhile. There was a ghost of a smile, but it wasn’t a smile out of cruelty, but a smile only the old Cas would make. Dean let the bloodied blade slide from his fingertips as he clutched Castiel, falling to his knees. “Cas?” he whispered, “Cas are you there, baby?” He stopped caring in that moment about if Castiel had ulterior motives and waves of dread crashed through the walls in his brain like an escaped dam and trickled down his spine like snow. Cas opened his mouth to let a small curling wisp of grace escape him and Dean drank it all in.   
In a flash he saw memories, events he was present in, and not from Castiel’s point of view. He saw, briefly, scenes from their hunts together, their kisses, and then something Dean had never seen before.   
Cas was seating in an uncomfortable wooden chair in front of a plastic table. There was a single dim lightbulb that swung unevenly. He could see three inches in front of him and get a gist on how large the wooden cabin was from a glance. The other side of the table was shrouded in darkness, concealing the other being Cas knew was there. His face was hardened and there wasn’t a spark of fear in his eyes, but Cas had a lot of practice using masks.   
“Sooo, Cassstiel,” The curling whisper made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It seemed to come from every direction, sneaking up walls and through windowpanes to his eardrums. “I underssstand the we have a deal.” Cas gave a barely visible nod,  
“Yes. I get destroyed, you leave Sam and Dean alone.” he said, his voice betraying a tiny tremor. Dean wanted to cry out, to force Cas away but he couldn’t move. He wasn’t, after all, physically there.   
“Place your handssss on the table, Casssstiel.” The voice whispered, twisting the letter ‘s’ like the hissing of a snake. Cas obeyed instantly, but the moment he did his face screwed up in agony as if the table was covered in white-hot embers. A yelp escaped his clenched teeth and beads of light snaked themselves up his quivering arms.  
The excruciating pain seemed to vanish as fast as it appeared and instead of relief, Cas’ face portrayed only a mix of fright and anger. The mask had fallen and there was true fear swimming in his eyes,  
“No! No! NO! You promised, you liar, you swore! You can’t do this!” He cried, jumping to his feet. The other end of the table said calmly, “I never lied. I am not going to hurt Ssssam and Dean and you will be dessstroyed. However, what I do with your body and what I chossse to tell them was never disclossssed” The voice almost seemed like it was laughing. Cas squirmed and twitched as the thing that had crawled up his arm fought for control over the body Cas had possessed. “NO! NO! DEAN! SAM! DEA-” Cas’ yells got cut off as his mouth switched between agony and the cruel smile Dean had seen for the past however many months.   
Finally, he became still and he brushed his hands down his suit and straightened his tie. He smiled. Cas was no longer Cas anymore.  
\---------  
Cas smiled with pure delight as his knife plunged into Jody’s heart. She choked and grasped at him, but it did nothing to impede the ending of her life. On the inside, the real Cas sobbed and begged and pleaded to be let go.  
\---------  
Crowley, too, never saw it coming. His throat had been slit open before he had even time to protest, and the blood running down Cas’ arm felt almost orgasmic to the creature.  
\---------  
Cas pushed once more against the monster that had him entrapped. He slammed his bloodied fist at the mental wall blocking him, sending a spray of hair thin splinters from the area of impact. He ran a finger on the cracks, hardly daring to believe it, and kicked it with a bruised foot. Another loud crack sounded out and a chunk the size of his fist fell out. The real Cas smiled grimly for the first time in months.   
\------------  
Cas looked through blurred eyes, finally being able to climb shakily past the wall, as Dean slammed a blade into his stomach. The pain was piercing, and it lit his body on fire from the point of impact, sparks running through the pins and needles. He choked and spluttered, finally forcing a small smile as he really was able to look at Dean for the first time in so long. The anger in Dean’s eyes was replaced by fear as Cas’ eyesight slowly faded to black.

Dean reeled from the sudden feeling of being brought back to the present. Cas had fallen to his knees and Dean instinctively reached for him, wrapping the body he hadn’t realized he missed in his arms. He helped Cas slowly lower himself to the ground, but the waves of shock had not yet quite hit him.   
“Dean” Cas whispered through bloodied teeth. Dean used one of his arms as a pillow for the angel’s head and used the other to wipe the hair off of Cas’ sweaty forehead. He then used that hand to bundle up a handful of fabric to press into the entry wound.   
“Cas, shh baby. It’s okay, you’re going to be fine.” Dean rambled on without noticing the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. Cas smiled one last time and reached a hand up. Dean was staring at him and he watched in frozen agony as Cas placed the hand on his chest and pushed him away. Dean felt his shock replaced by confusion and dread, as if his brain hadn’t caught up to his body quite yet that this made sense.   
Castiel’s eyes and mouth glowed with celestial light and it streamed around him, blinding Dean and forcing him to both cover up his eyes and let go of Cas, because his skin suddenly became to hot to hold. There was a sound of an explosion that left Dean’s ears ringing and when he dared open his eyes, scorched wings decorated the uneven cement floor.   
Cas lay there, broken and bloody. His eyes were open and glassed over and his chest was still. Dean began to crawl over, numb, and winced at the wingtips burnt into his flesh. He ignored this and touched Cas’ face, his clothes. When he lifted the angel’s shoulder, his head flopped on its side, touching bloody lips to the the ground where they didn’t move for breath. Dean grasped at him, holding the unmoving figure in his arms. “Cas! CAS! Baby, can you hear me?!” The words slipped through Dean’s mouth as he lowered his lips onto Cas’ cool forehead, the rivulets of tears cutting across the soot on his cheeks. “I’m sorry Cassie, please come back to me. I need you.” He sat there in the dim warehouse, rocking back and forth with the dead angel’s limp form held to his chest, and only the Lord knows how much his grief tore into his soul.


End file.
